Alice thinks everyone has a Wonderland (offinherhead) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-03 18:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, alice liddell, aveline vallen, faiza hussain (excalibur), miriel |
"Nothing dark, or frightful, or depressing? Like Celine Dion?"
Who: Alice, Aveline, and Miriel, with a side order of Faiza.
What: Aveline rescues Alice and takes her to Miriel's shelter for a chat. And then there is detective work, tea, and ghosts. And a top hat. Its one of those days.
When: A lazy morning recently.
Where: A particularly not nice part of town, and the women's shelter.
Rating: Probably PG-13 but I'd say there is trigger warning potential, due to Alice's episodes and the abuse.
Status: Complete
One foot in front of the other, and you reach your destination. But that would mean you’d know where you were going, and what you were going to do when you got there. The cat purred in her ear and for a brief moment she thought she saw her smile. That was silly. Cats don’t smile.
Alice adjusted the kitten on her shoulder, and didn’t bother to look both ways before crossing the street. The kitten’s nails dug into her skin at the sound of an oncoming car and Alice danced to the side to avoid being hit. She pranced around another speeding car and then stopped several inches short of getting hit by a bus speeding past. This time she looked both ways before stepping onto the curb and nodded satisfactorily.
“The yanks lack proper manners when driving,” She commented, to no one in particular. Spotting a penny on the ground, she knelt down to examine it. It was tails up, which was supposed to be bad luck but that was all rubbish so she picked it up anyway and shoved it in a pocket. Her hand closed briefly on her switch blade and she let the metal comfort her. It wasn’t big enough but it was concealable and right now that was for the best.
You never knew when someone was going to try to murder you, after all. She cut through an alley. Upon hearing footsteps behind her an odd, almost serene smile crossed her lips. Pulling the knife out of her pocket and concealing it with her palm and the sleeve of her shirt, she turned to face the man who’d been following her for several blocks.
“You remind me of someone I knew once, only a little shorter, and skinnier. And your face is uglier. Actually you look nothing like him in the slightest.”
It was supposed to be Aveline’s day off. But anyone who knew the detective even moderately well knew that there was no such things as a true “day off” when it came to her. Days off usually meant days of checking up on people and places. And sometimes days off meant stumbling over more people to help.
As it turned out, today was just that sort of “day off.”
Aveline spotted the man moments after she spotted the girl. She checked her off-duty gun and followed headed after the man. An alley was the perfect place for any number of crimes, and Aveline was not about to let anything happen while she was around. She flattened herself against the wall as the girl spoke, her eye on the man and her hand on her gun. If he made any move toward the girl, she’d announce her presence.
"Crazy bitch." The man gestured at her, "Why don't you turn around and put your hands on the wall. I'll go easy on ya."
Alice laughed. The sound rang through the alley, and she took a step towards the man, the knife flicking out. She sang a bit, about prying oysters open to get to the meat within.
Aveline stepped around the corner. “Sir, as an officer of the law, I suggest you clear out and leave her alone,” she said, her voice level and commanding.
Alice peered past the man, adroitly closing the knife and sticking it back in her pocket. She studied the woman closely. She was pretty in a classical fashion but her hair was red and that was a point against her.
The man slowly took his hand out of his pocket to show he wasn't armed, then backed away and darted out of the alley as casually as he could muster with his tail between his legs. Alice watched him go, the kitten mewling after him as though in challenge, though what the kitten could possibly do except attack his ankles wasn't entirely clear. She tilted her head, pale eyes looking through Aveline, "So you're with the fuzz, then?" If the accent didn't place her, the slang would.
Aveline narrowed her eyes at the man’s back as he retreated. Good riddance. Hopefully he’d decide to leave town.
She turned her attention to the young woman and nodded. “I’m Detective Vallen. Are you alright? Need anything?”
He could be trouble later, but Alice was sure she could have handled him. Mostly. The idea of making him bleed both tittilated her and disgusted her. She wondered at that for a moment. It was a different feeling than when she used to cut herself.
Aveline's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked into the woman's green eyes again, "I was going to the store, I needed milk for tea. And creamer. I hate the stuff but she swears by it. You're a Detective? Do you have broads come to you asking you to solve their problems? Are they really very pretty. Do their knockers go out to here?"
She held out her hand in front of her chest a full foot.
The young woman’s questions caught Aveline by surprise. As did the gesture about “knockers.” Today would not be dull, at least.
“I’m a police detective, not a private detective. But I do sometimes help women who have problems, and some of them sometimes have larges breasts.” She could not believe she’d just said that. “Do you have a place to stay?” She assumed she might but the girl didn’t seem...quite...there.
"Large breasts just get in the way. That’s what he said anyway." She held her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels, "I've a flat a few blocks down. There's a lovely view of the drug dealers and I've started up conversations with the trollop on the corner. She's rather nice if a bit strung out."
Alice leaned in, lowering her voice to a stage whisper, "I don't think she's all there, she won't talk to my ghost."
Aveline raised an eyebrow. The woman was in a very bad place for someone with the...issues that she seemed to have.
“I could show you a place to go if you wanted to take a break from the...view from your apartment. It’s a nice place. A place when men like the one I chased off can’t bother you.” She paused for a moment. “This ‘he’ you mentioned...does he hurt you?”
"S'not the "hospital" again, is it?" The girl made air quotes around the word hospital. The vehement disdain she showed for the word said much about her opinion of places of medicine, be it for the mind or the body.
She seemed momentarily lucid, her eyes flashing in anger and barely surpressed grief, "He's locked away, he doesn't haunt me any more."
Alice felt suddenly trapped, but the fuzz blocked one exit and her long legs would easily prevent escape down the other. She wrapped her arms around herself, the kitten mewling, her tail wrapping around a shoulder. She didn't like how easily that the words had spilled out.
“No, it’s not a hospital. It’s a place for women to go if they nee to get away from someone, or if they just need a safe place to stay for a while. There are doctors who volunteer there in case anyone needs medical help, though.” Or psychological help, but Aveline wasn’t about to bring that up now.
“It sounds like it’s a good thing he’s locked up. I do my best to get people who hurt people locked away.”
"I wish your hair wasn't red," Alice muttered. "I don't like that color. Red, maroon, burgandy I hate it all."
She rubbed her arms, looking away. Doctors do not help. They poke and prod. They ask questions, too many questions and they don't help. They're stupid too, they don't know when a little girl is listening. Doctors give up on the mad little girl.
"That’s good though. That there are places like that. I don't need it but I'd like to see it. I..want to know..." She wanted to know that such a place was real. She looked skeptical, "..do you have a badge?"
“I don’t have my badge on me, but I can give you one of my cards,” Aveline said. She pulled one out of her pocket and held it out. “You can call the station to ask for a description of Detective Aveline Vallen any time you want. If you want. And my cell number is on the back; it’s always on.”
She gave the girl a tight-lipped smile. “And I’m sorry my hair bothers you.”
"Anyone can print a business card," Alice admonished. She took it anyway, glancing at it once then sticking it in her pocket next to the switchblade. She felt suddenly more relaxed, "I'm sorry about your hair too, but its not your fault. If I squint just right it looks orange and orange is a nice color. Like fire. Is this place close? I still need milk, and creamer."
She wrinkled her nose, "Yanks and their creamer. If she wasn't dead I'd make her get her own."
Aveline blinked. The girl was buying coffee creamer for a ghost? “In some lighting it’s basically orange. And yes, anyone can print a card,” she admitted. She glanced out at the streets on either end of the alley. “It’s not far. A good walk, but I enjoy the exercise, myself.”
"You could never have too much exercise," Alice agreed. She skipped past Aveline and out into the street, dodging around a couple with a large dog and then pausing as if unsure which direction to go. She'd already decided that Aveline's hair was orange and that was that.
Aveline jogged after Alice. “This way,” she said, turning down another street. She’d definitely be giving Miriel a heads-up about the girl’s apparent mental state. Seeing ghosts and buying them coffee creamer were probably fairly mild things, but Miriel would need to know.
The girl followed her, skipping along like the Titantic towards the tip of the iceberg. Now that Aveline's hair was orange, she found she liked the woman a lot better. She was being nice and kind, and the card looked official like. And knowing where this 'shelter' was might come in handy in the future. You never know when you might need to bolt down the rabbit hole.
Giggling, Alice hummed, "Follow the white rabbit."
After a good bit of walking, they arrived at the Sunburst Women’s Shelter. Aveline made her way to the door and knocked.
A harried looking woman wearing a headscarf decorated with red flowers opened the door. She flashed Aveline a smile, and in a British accent said quickly, "Oh! I was just leaving but do either of you need medical attention? It wouldn't do to go home without checking up on either of you."
She turned and called back in practically the same breath, "Miss Palantiri, you have some more, ah, guests!"
Alice peered at the strange Muslim woman curiously. She wore a white labcoat but there weren't splots of blood so it may be safe. Still, she edged closer to Aveline. Doctors were bad people.
Another woman came out of a small office. She had dark hair and was very pretty, almost elegantly so. She had a bright smile which she gave Aveline, “Found another lost girl, Aveline?”
Alice had to tilt her head back a bit. Miriel had seven inches on her, “You’re going to pop out of your top.”
Miriel raised her eyebrow at Aveline
Aveline momentarily covered her face with a hand. The young woman had no filters. Great. “In a manner of speaking, yes. I wanted her to know where you were, as she tells me she lives in a high-crime area.” The look she gave Miriel said, We need to talk about this one.
Miriel had known Aveline long enough to be able to read that look. She nodded her head. She'd been composing a personal email to Galadriel so she wasn't in the middle of anything that needed dire attention.
"Come in." She smiled at Alice, who reached out and poked Miriel in the left breast curiously.
"Are those real?"
"They're a product of a very well made bra," the other woman replied.
The doctor felt her face burn a bit and fidgeted with the sleeve on her lab coat, "Well if no one is hurt then I should get going, I've an early morning tomorrow." She thought of the hard work it would mean and smiled - she looked forward to it.
Poking Aveline in the shoulder, she added, "And stay safe. With my luck you'll be my first solo emergency case and we really can't have that!" With a wave, she departed.
Alice tugged at her hair. She thought the scarf was pretty.
Miriel led them inside, closing the door. Alice peered curiously at the cots and beds. There didn't appear to be much privacy. A young boy stared at her and she stopped in her tracks, peering into his eyes. The pain there was so familiar, she looked away, her own eyes lost in visions of her youth.
Miriel touched her elbow, "Why don't you look around a bit, while Aveline and I talk. Is that okay?"
Alice nodded, distractedly.
No filters, and no sense of personal space. Aveline took a deep breath. The girl was clearly not that mentally stable, and from her earlier mention of hospitals, Aveline assumed she’d spent time in a mental facility.
She raised an eyebrow at Faiza. “I’ll continue to do my best to almost getting killed, doctor.” Nice woman, the doctor. After Miriel’s suggestion, Aveline steered her friend to a more private area.
“I think she’s been through some sort of trauma before. She mentioned a man who said that big breasts ‘just got in the way,’ but he’s apparently locked up now.” Or dead. Hopefully dead. “She also believes she lives with a ghost, and was on her way to the store to buy the ghost some coffee creamer when I chased off a would-be rapist.”
Miriel fought down a surge of distress. As many women as she'd worked with, she still felt incredible empathy every time. It stabbed at her chest and gnawed at her stomach. Faiza kept telling her she needed to check for ulcers.
Running a hand through her hair, Miriel nodded, "She screams vulnerability. She'll be difficult to reach."
Creamer for a ghost, that was a new one. "I can't force her to stay, especially if she has a place to live. Do you know the neighborhood well?"
Aveline shook her head. “I’m not completely sure I know where she lives, but I know areas that fit the profile. Drug dealers and prostitutes.”
She glanced in Alice’s direction. “I don’t know if she has a job, but she at least has some was of purchasing food.” Even if she was spending some of that on something that didn’t exist. “And yes. She’s practically got a neon sign saying ‘easy mark,’ poor thing...”
"Do you think she's turning tricks?" Miriel glanced out a bit, watching the girl walking around, the cat having moved to her arms. She was hugging it to her like it was a life preserver.
There could be any number of reasons to explain her state of mind. Not for the first time Miriel wished she had the time to take a course in psychology. Perhaps a night class.
“...my gut says she isn’t,” Aveline said after watching the girl for a moment. “Oh. And she doesn’t like shades of red. I’m guessing trauma involving blood.” Probably lots of it.
“That must have been chaotic, with your hair.” Miriel reached over, brushing aside a strand, “We don’t want to pry too quickly or too hard. It has to come naturally and at her own pace. But I’ll make sure she has a place here if she needs it.”
The dark-haired woman tilted her head, “I think you ought to walk her home. For her own safety, of course.” She winked, lips curving up, “It would be useful to know where she lived.”
“I think she’s decided it’s orange. We did have a small discussion of it being orange.” Life would probably be easier in some ways if she dyed her hair, Aveline thought, but then she wouldn’t be herself.
She nodded at Miriel’s suggestion. “It would definitely be the best option. Both for her safety and to gauge the safety of the neighborhood.”
“We make a good team, if you ever tire of the force, you’re welcome here,” Miriel replied, her smile reflected in her eyes.
Aveline smiled slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said even though she didn’t expect she’d leave the force until she was old and gray.
There was the sound of clattering in the main room, and then a horrific screeching yell, “You’re going to hurt her!”
The young boy had a hold of Alice’s cat, and the woman was advancing on him menacingly, her eyes flashing angrily, “Give her back!”
Despite all this the cat looked unperturbed, but the boy was terrified and his mother grabbed for her arm, trying to reassure her the cat would be fine. The touch startled Alice. She let out a pained, fearful yowl, twisting away and back over a bed, her fists flailing in impotent angry circles.
Miriel rushed out, and cautiously approached Alice.
Aveline sighed and made her way over to the boy. She squatted down to be more his height and gave him a serious look. “I’m sure you’d be very careful with kitty here, but she’s very important to this lady, and I think it would be best if you let me hand kitty back to her. Also, it’s best to ask if it’s okay before you touch other people’s things.” She gave him a slight smile.
Nodding his head, the boy held out the cat. She flailed her paws a bit as the situation was extremely demeaning to her cat sensibilities.
Miriel had gently, but firmly helped Alice up and had ahold of her wrists, “Alice. He’s just a child and doesn’t know any better. I’m sure he’s very sorry.” She gave the girl a smile.
Alice was shaking. The strange environs, the scared look on the woman’s face when her fist had nearly collided with her face, her cat...it all served to take her back to other places in her life. Places she would rather never visit. Her eyes focused on the woman in front of her, and she said calmly, “Careful, your funbags are going to poke my eyes out.”
The other woman relaxed, letting out a short laugh. She slowly let go of Alice’s wrists. The younger woman looked at the boy’s mother, and chewed her lip, “I’m terribly sorry. You startled me and I overreacted.”
The mother just nodded her head, wrapping her arms around her boy. It was almost a protective gesture and Alice felt momentarily put out. She hadn’t meant anything by it. It was her cat! Still, she had lashed out, and wanted to lash out more. She recognized this and studied her shoe, humming softly. An unfamiliar presence moved behind her, and she ignored it. Probably another spook. This was a sad yet hopeful place, it would attract lost souls who had been here before. Part of herself knew she was completely nutters - she liked to ignore that part, it wasn’t very fun.
Aveline held the kitten out to Alice, careful to support it correctly. “Here you go,” she said. Alice’s reaction was not altogether unexpected, given her apparent state of mind. And Aveline did seriously doubt Alice had given the boy permission to touch her cat, let alone to hold it. Taking things from unstable people did not general end well.
Alice took the cat, crushing it against her chest and announced, “I’m going to go back to my flat now. I’ve had quite enough adventure today and she can sodding well get her own creamer.” She nodded at Miriel, “Pleased to meet you.” And to the door she walked.
Miriel glanced at Aveline, then indicated she’d take care of the situation with the woman and her son with a few gestures.
“I’ll walk her home,” Aveline murmured as she followed Alice. This hadn’t been exactly a typical day off, but it wasn’t out of the range of the usual. Not completely, anyway. Ghosts were still not usually on Aveline’s list of things she dealt with often.
Crazy traumatized girls with cats might become a regular occurrence. At least Alice felt like she could like Aveline. As long as her hair was orange. If it was red, then all bets were off. But orange was a nice shade of color and the sunlight seemed to cause it to glow like a sunset. Alice reached over and played with a strand, “In French your name means nut.”
Aveline raised an eyebrow. “Which name?” She didn’t believe the girl, but she could certainly humor her. Also, today was apparently ‘touch the redhead’s hair’ day. It was a little odd.
“Aveline.” She made it sound like ‘Awvahleen.’ The young woman walked in silence after that. They passed several drug dealers and what vaguely resembled a prostitute with an impressive beard. She paused to stare, her gaze unwavering until the prostitute, unnerved, took her leave.
This was a more peculiar neighborhood than Aveline had expected. She made a note of the drug dealers’ general appearances for later reference and raised an eyebrow at the prostitute. She turned her attention back to Alice and made note of the address when they arrived.
“This..is my flat. Do you want to come in? I should have an extra tea setting placed, I always do.” Without waiting for an answer she walked in, and through the hallway before stopping at a white door. She unlocked it and entered. At the other end of the hallway was the dried bloodstain. She’d used markers to change it into something a little more cheerful, mostly scenes from her favorite childhood books by Lewis Carroll.
Was that...blood? Aveline stepped over for a closer look. Definitely blood. Human or not was another question, but Aveline didn’t have enough information to check. “Has this been here long?” she asked, pointing to the stain.
“It was here when I moved in.” She walked into the kitchen and started to brew tea, “She was shot in the forehead and the chest. I don’t think it was very pretty.”
“She--what happened to the body?” Aveline starting combing through her memories for any homicides she knew of that fit that description. “When did you move in?”
“Three weeks ago.” She brought Aveline a cup of tea, “It was ugly, I made it pretty.” She didn’t like to think about what it represented.
“And the body?” She asked again. Perhaps that was the ghost the girl thought she saw. With her state of mind, imagining a ghost or hallucinating after finding a dead body was certainly a possibility.
“She was standing where you were standing,” Alice replied. “I made her tea.” It sounded like this all seemed perfectly normal. That there hadn’t been a body in her flat, it had already been cleaned up and taken away so she could move in. She furrowed her brow, thinking about it. The stain had been fresh, too fresh, it had been dripping. No, it had been dry, and brown, the blood washed away by someone who didn’t really care.
Images flashed. The body there, then not there, standing next to her. She wasn’t sure what was real, and what wasn’t real. She stared to hyperventilate and sway. The cat had licked the dead woman’s fingers. Someone had been screaming.
Aveline moved to steady Alice, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I think it would be best if you take a seat. You’ve had a busy day.” She guided Alice into the apartment. “I remember that red is a touchy subject. I should have been more considerate.”
It didn't make sense. She'd come in alone, there hadn't been anyone there but the ghost, there'd been no body. Hadn't there. She looked up at Aveline, seeming ten years younger than she was, "I don't know what's real."
Aveline’s expression softened. “I wish I knew how to help you know,” she said softly. The girl probably had some degree of PTSD in addition to whatever other issues she might have. “I could stay with you for a little while, if you’d like. We could have that tea you offered.”
Lots of people walked in and out with the speed of flash forward, and then they were alone
again and Alice wasn't sure what she'd been seeing. She nodded her head, "I'd like that. We better hurry, or we'll be late."
“Okay.” Aveline took the other seat at the table. “Where are we going, after we have tea?” It was worth investigating, that was certain. She might learn Alice’s patterns this way.
“Late, for tea!” She gave the older woman a look as though she were daft, not knowing they shouldn’t be late for tea. She poured some, and then brought what the yanks liked to call ‘cookies’. She liked the chocolate chip the best.
“Oh. Of course. Sorry about that.” Clearly her American-ness was showing.
“Well I do have some place I want to be but I don’t know when that is.” She picked up a flyer, showing an ad for a band looking for band members, “I can sing, you know.” As though of course, Aveline knew, “The band is called Dark Skulls.”
“Dark Skulls. Interesting...” It looked like the sort of thing that might attract a person with...emotional issues. “And that’s nice, that you can sing.”
"Would you like to hear a song?"
Aveline smiled. “If you feel like singing one, sure.”
Alice cleared her throat and started to sing. It was an unusual and haunting rendition of the Walrus and the Carpenter, and she seemed to know the song by heart, even as she changed words around and put lyrics where they shouldn’t be.
Aveline wasn’t familiar enough with the source to know all of the changes, she did get the feeling that Alice’s version...took liberties. Still, it was very good. If a little disturbing.
“I particularly like the part about prying the oysters open to get to the meat inside.” Alice commented, after finishing her song.
She would probably need to learn different songs if she hoped to make the band and chewed on her lip, “I don’t suppose you know anything more appropriate?”
Aveline thought for a moment. “...I don’t know if I know anything that would really catch the band’s attention if you sang it.”
"Nothing dark, or frightful, or depressing? Like Celine Dion?"
Aveline’s jaw dropped slightly. “No...not Celine Dion. Have you...perhaps heard of Metallica?”
"That's not a bad idea. You're rather useful to have around, Aveline." Alice smiled at her over her teacup. She stared at Aveline for a moment, then got to her feet and left the room. She came back with her top hat and planted it on Aveline's head. She nodded as though that? Was where it belonged.
The top hat was unexpected. “...you’re welcome.” Tea in a top hat. Did that make her a stand-in for the Mad Hatter? Alice did seem to have a fixation with Lewis Carrol.
Perhaps it did, though Aveline was hardly mad, despite the deficiency with her hair color.
Which was orange. Not red.
Alice smiled at her, pleased with herself. Tea with the living was a lot better than tea with the dead.